CHAPTER XI 



MEMORIES OF HIGHLAND STALKERS 



Living far removed from the great cities, and often amongst 

 all that is most admirable and grand in Nature, the High- 

 land stalker has a certain distinctive charm of his own. In 

 him is often set deeply the poetry and romance of his race. 

 He has lived out his quiet life in his glen, with the big 

 hills he knows so well sheltering his home from the fierce 

 winter storms, and his glen is his whole world. In winter 

 as well as in summer he is abroad in all weathers. In wild 

 January blizzards he may be out on the high ground after 

 hinds, and may have his work cut out to gain shelter 

 before he is overcome by the choking drift. When it is 

 realized how rapidly a blizzard of dry, powdery snow from 

 the north may descend on the uplying glens, obliterating 

 every object more than a few yards distant, it is a matter 

 of surprise how seldom the Highland stalker does go astray 

 during a winter's storm. Such incidents occasionally do 

 occur, it is true, but I have never heard of a life being lost, 

 for a stalker has a more intimate knowledge of the ground 

 of his beat than any other man, and in summer when the 

 mist lies thick on the hill, he is able to guide the sports- 

 man unerringly, not only to safety, but also to that part 

 of the ground where, with the particular wind which 

 happens to be blowing at the time, stags are most likely 

 to be found. 



During the closing days of December, 1906, a terrific 

 blizzard of snow swept the country without warning, save 

 that the glass had dropped steadily, although the wind was 

 in a northerly quarter. On the morning of December 26 

 the frost was intense, and there was scarcely a cloud in the 



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